


I guess it's a date

by Ccaprico



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Large Cock, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, stripper!shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ccaprico/pseuds/Ccaprico
Summary: Lance buying him a lap dance turned out to be the best and the worse decision of Matt's entire life.





	

Matt still couldn’t figure out why he let himself get dragged to a strip club on a Friday night.

_The Paladin_ , a strange name for a strip club. It made the situation seem sacrilegious, not that Matt minded. How Lance got the tickets was beyond him, but standing outside the shady building brought questions of whether it had been entirely legal. _Probably not_ , knowing Lance.

After a particularly intimidating bouncer checked (and doubled checked, when he saw Matt) their passes, the group stumbled into the club.

The assault of various scents slammed into Matt like a wave. He coughed at what he thought was a cross between aftershave and fruit, undertone with sweat and body oil. His eyes drifted towards the various stages dotted around the room, to men with rippling muscles and dollar bills hanging from their undergarments.

“Lighten’ up, Matt!” exclaimed Lance over the hum of the music. He grinned as a hand clasped over Matt’s shoulder. “This place is freakin’ awesome!”

“Remind me again why we’re here?“ said Hunk. Why he agreed to come along with them was beyond him. Lance, he could understand. But Hunk?

“It’s because Lance can’t score himself a man,” said Matt.

“It’s _because_ Matt’s having problems with his sexuality, and I’m here to help. Lance is to the rescue!” said Lance, pumping his fist into the air.

A furious blush passed over Matt’s face. _Problems with his sexuality?_ “Keep telling yourself that,” he snapped, shooting a dirty look in Lance’s direction. “I was completely fine with staying at home. But no, you just had to drag me along!”

“You may be fine, but Pidge wasn’t. She practically begged us to bring you along - ‘ _get him a boyfriend, Lance!_ ’ that’s what she said.”

“You do realise I’m a fully grown adult?” said Matt, crossing his hands over his chest. “I can make decisions for myself, thank you very much. I don’t need you _or_ Pidge finding me a boyfriend.”

Lance snorted. “Whatever you say, pipsqueak.”

_“_ Bite me,” Matt growled. He already needed a drink.

With a curt goodbye, Matt weaved through the throngs of people towards the bar. Sweat trickled down his spine at the oppressive warmth of the club, pressing down from all sides.

The bartender, an out-of-place man with fading ginger hair and a bushy moustache, cocked a brow when Matt sat down. For a moment, Matt thought he might actually refuse service to him. He always _had_ looked young for his age, despite every attempt to make himself more mature.

Thankfully, the man did no such thing. “You looked troubled,” the man said as he leant against the polished counter. “Is nobody catching your fancy?”

“No-one,” said Matt, a drawn out sigh escaping his lips. It wasn’t like any of the performers were _bad looking_ , they just didn’t appeal to Matt.

The bartender – _Coran,_ his label read – shot him a confused look. “Not quite the attitude to have at a strip club, I’d say. Did a friend drag you along?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.” The smile that slipped onto his face didn’t belong in a strip club, Matt thought. It was too nice for the dingy, purple lighting and the oppressive smells. “What’s it going to be, then? The first ones on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Matt. He wasn’t _that_ unhappy. “My friend’s already offered to buy me a lap dance. I don’t think drinking would be a wise idea.”

“On the contrary!” Coran exclaimed, twisting to grab a bottle from behind. Before Matt could say otherwise, a hand slid towards the shelf filled with shot glasses, pulling one down. “You’re going to need it for some of these people!”

Matt watched with some trepidation as Coran poured a shot worth of clear liquid into the glass, placing the drink on the bar. “Heads up,” said Coran. 

In the purple lightning of the club, the glass almost looked black. Warning bells went off in his head as he raised the glass, pressing the cold surface to his lips. _Here goes nothing..._

The liquid burned all the way down to his stomach like battery acid. He spluttered, fighting the urge to cough as the taste lingered at the back of his throat, and set the glass in front of Coran, not trusting himself to speak. It was bad, but not bad enough to stop.

By the third or fourth shot ( _vodka_ , his mind supplied), a happy warmth settled in the pit of Matt’s stomach. The world brightened, the music became static, and even the men looked nicer. With a generous tip, Matt said goodbye to the bartender and stumbled into the waiting crowd. Lance promised a free lap dance, right? He might as well choose the most attractive one for his time.

His gaze wandered from one stage to another, staring blankly at the performers dancing for greedy eyes. They were definitely good-looking men, but none of them caught Matt’s attention for more than a few seconds. _Generic_ was the word that came to mind.

Matt almost jumped out of his skin when a hand dropped on his shoulder, squeezing gently.  “Matt?” said the owner of the hand. He knew that voice.

Matt twisted, staring at the man behind him. Hunk - definitely Hunk. “What’s wrong?” said Matt, and despite his best efforts, the words slurred into one.

The hand on his shoulder tightened. “Are you drunk?”

“Just a lil’,” Matt admitted.

Hunk regarded Matt with a stare he couldn’t quite figure out. Sympathy? Worry? Disappointment? Matt couldn’t tell. “Maybe coming here really was a bad idea after all…” Hunk murmured.

“But this is great!”

“Hell yeah it is!” shouted Lance, cutting through the conversation like a knife. “This place is awesome! You should see the men, Matt. I hate to be shallow… wait, I love to be shallow! These guys are _hot!_ We should come here every week -”

Matt didn’t hear the rest of what Lance said. Whether he phased out or just stopped listening was beyond him, but his focus ended back on the stages once more. _A lap dance_... he wanted a lap dance.

But with who?

The man at the end was far too young to be appealing, probably younger than Matt, and thin. As much as he would deny being shallow, buff men were his favourite - just not as much as the next dancer. He looked more like a bodybuilder than a stripper, with an unnaturally large chest and abnormally short legs.

_No, definitely not._

His eyes snagged on the man dancing centre stage, shirt long gone and a pair of skin-tight pants over his hips, wrinkled bills peeking from above the waistband.

Good-looking people were not uncommon to Matt - Lance made sure every time he dragged the poor teen to a college party. Even his friends were attractive in their own way: Hunk with his soft, cheerful features, and Lance with more graceful, feline ones.

But this guy took it to an entirely different level.

Chiselled is the word Matt would use to describe the man. His jaw, his body, his face… the guy could easily pass for a model. He towered at an impressive height, lean and muscular, rolling his hips with an effortless grace. But something else caught his eye. He… had a metal arm, starting mid-bicep of his right arm and glinting in the darkness. _That didn’t look ominous at all..._

The performance finished with a sharp hip thrust, and the large crowd below went into a frenzy. In seconds, green bills littered the stage like confetti, and more hung in the grappling hands of the crowd. Matt barely paid attention, though, watching as the stripper stuffed several bills into the waistband of his pants.

“Holy shit,” murmured Matt, unashamedly staring at the man.

“What?” Lance asked, following his gaze to the stripper. “Oh... I am _liking_ your taste in men, Matt. _Holy shit_ indeed.”

Matt moaned in agreement. Despite his bulky build, the stripper slipped off stage without trouble, manoeuvring out of sight as several men collected the remaining notes from the ground. And just like that, the spell over Matt broke.

“…Well,” Lance began, turning his attention away from Matt. “I know what I need to do.”

“Lance, please don’t – wait, where are you going?”

Lance turned briefly at the question, grinning. “I’m getting the best present _ever._ No need to thank me, just tell me how it went afterwards.”

“What the hell are you -“ Matt froze, the words dying in his mouth. Lance just caught him ogling one of the strippers, and he _had_ offered to buy Lance a lap dance…

“ _Oh.”_

“You’re _so_ going to owe me by the end of this!” shouted Lance, sliding out of view with a loud, cackling laugh.

Silence fell between the remaining friends.

“…What just happened?” Hunk asked after a second, staring at the direction Lance disappeared off.

“I think Lance just went to buy me a lap dance,” said Matt.  Did that seriously just happen?

Hunk snorted. “You think?”

“I hope.”

A strangled noise came from the back of Hunk’s throat, obviously in discomfort. “ _Wow_ ,” he muttered. “Uh… good luck, I guess? Remember to use protection.”

“It’s not sex, Hunk. Just a lap dance. “

_Just a lap dance -_ as if Matt was remotely ready. Part of him hoped he completely misread Lance’s comment, but the other half –the noticeably larger half – _really_ hoped not.

Matt almost had a heart attack when Lance jumped back into view, bouncing on the soles of his feet as he waved something above his head like a trophy. “His name’s the champion,” said Lance, offering the ticket to Matt. “Or, his stage name is. Be a bit worrying if that was his actual name. Anyway, because I’m the best friend in the whole wide world, I just got you a limited, one-hour session with him in room... uh – three-one-five! Yes, three-one-five.”

Matt gaped at the young adult. “You’re serious?   _Holy shit_ , Lance – you’re the best!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Hunk groaned, but Lance had none of it.

“Lighten’ up, Hunk. Matt just got the hottest guy in the club. You should be happy for him, not wallowing in self-pity!”

“He’s a stripper!”

“He’s a performer!”

Hunk turned on Matt. “You’re not seriously going through with this, right?” he pleaded. How could someone so big look like a baby seal? “It could be dangerous!”

“It’s not _dangerous_ , Hunk. And I don’t see why not…” a lie. He could think of a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea, but his brain couldn’t get past ‘ _hot guy_.’

Hunk groaned, throwing his hands up in the air.  “I give up,” he said. “Fine, just be careful, okay? Don’t get yourself thrown out ‘cause you can’t control your urges.”

_Did he just imply what I think he did?_ Matt blinked, his face screwing up in disgust. “God, Hunk! I’m not that desperate!” he shouted over Lance laughing.

“O-oh, but it’s true - !” Lance spluttered.

_“I will break you Lance!”_

The threat succeeded in sending the man into another fit of laughter, tears threatening to escape. “You’re gonna be late if you’re not careful. I think the rooms are at the back, over there – “Lance pointed towards the main stage, where a set of stainless steel doors lined the back wall, each with thick, printed numbers in view. “The bartender said the black lion’s room is on the far end.”

Matt needed no invitation as he stumbled past several drunken bodies, his own buzz fading into memory. Each step felt like jelly. Maybe Hunk was right – he wasn’t sober enough to make decisions like this.

_What decision?_ A voice whispered in his head, sickeningly sweet. He found himself frozen outside the door marked ‘315,’ shifting on the soles of his feet. _There’s nothing to think about. Just do it!_

He opened the door.

Matt slid into the dark room, the door shutting behind him. It was a small room, with the same ominous purple as the bar, and the same musky sweetness in the air. Aside from the lavish sofa pushed against the back and a small drinking table, the room was almost bare.

_Now what?_ Matt shuffled towards the sofa and cringed when a particularly harsh waft of musk assaulted his nose. He settled himself on the dark furniture, fiddling with the hem of his shift. The room kept out most noise from the club, with its own music playing lightly from one of the speakers. _This isn’t awkward at all…_

As it turned out, Matt didn’t have to wait long. In less than a minute, the door swung open, and the stripper sauntered in. His body glistened from a mix of sweat and body oil, shining in the dim lighting with an almost ethereal glow.

Matt drunk the sight in.

“Yo,” said the champion, sticking his hand out in greeting. A pale scar ran across the bridge of his nose. “I’m the champion, though I guess you already knew that.”

Matt nodded, squirming under the champion’s gaze. Even with a kind smile on his face, the intensity made Matt nervous. It didn’t help that he couldn’t focus on anything aside from the impressive physique right in front of him, all bulging muscles and oiled skin.

Matt barely processed the words coming from out of his as he spoke. Matt _would_ be the kind of person to blank out in front of a stripper, now wouldn’t he? He blamed the muscles – they were just too good to be normal.

The stripper stopped talking, looking at Matt expectantly. _“_ What?” Matt blurted out, and the man cocked an amused eyebrow at the sight. “S-sorry, just lost in thought.”

A smirk slid onto the champion’s face. “Am I that good-looking?” he asked, edging forward. He noticed the staring, then - not that Matt tried to hide it. The stripper slipped a leg of Matt’s thigh, straddled the smaller male.

_Yes._ A hundred times _yes_.

Matt forced his voice to stay even as he spoke, “You’re the stripper here, not me.”

A shiver crawled up his spine as the champion shifted on his lap, shrugging good-naturedly. “Then I guess we should get started.  Don’t want to waste all that money for nothing, eh?”

Matt could only nod, not trusting his voice. His breaths came out shallow as the man arched forward, his impressive torso pushed into Matt’s face. He had a perfect view: the deep cut abs, the rippling pecs, the oiled skin. A musky, tea tree aroma wafted from the man – the body oil, no doubt.

The champion began slowly, swaying his hips to the music as he pressed his hands against the sofa. A stifling warmth rolled off his body, seeping through the thin layers of Matt’s clothes and into his skin. It was unreal – _he_ was unreal.

“Loosen up!” The man laughed as his hips slid against Matt, sending equal amounts of pleasure and anxiety down his spine _. Just a lap dance,_ he reminded himself, _nothing more_.

“This is all kind of new to me. I’m... not the most social person,” said Matt. As if the stripper would care – he didn’t need to know about Matt’s personal life any more than Matt needed to know about his. 

It surprised him when the champion smiled, softer than Matt expected for a stripper. A hand retracted from the sofa to run a hand through his dark undercut, pushing the lock of white hair out of his eyes. “I guess that’s something to be proud off. Special occasion?”

“A horny friend.” He wasn’t even going to sugar-coat it.

The champion looked like he was struggling not to laugh. “Are you sure you want me to continue? Horny friends don’t always know the best for you. I could probably get you a refund -”

“No!” Matt snapped, louder than he intended. _Crap_ , that wasn’t obvious at all. “I don’t think my friend would appreciate it. He’s the one who paid for it.”

For a moment the champion looked perplexed. “That explains the request,” the champion murmured, nodding his head slowly. What was that supposed to mean?

The confusion must have shown on his face, as the champion shot Matt a lopsided smile.  “Your friend asked for - and I quote - ‘the dirtiest package you have from the hot buff dude.’ Sound familiar?”

_Oh god._

“You – you don’t have to!” Matt spluttered. How could Lance ask for something like that? It was unbelievable... actually, it was totally believable. “I mean - if you want to, but this is my first time... I wouldn’t _object_...”

The champion bellowed with laughter, loud and boisterous from deep in his throat.  “ _W-wow_ ,” the stripper huffed, “yo-you’re  smooth as hell.”

He wished the sofa would swallow him up– at least then he could escape with _some_ kind of dignity. “Just get on with your lap dance,” he groaned, shifting his gaze downwards. He couldn’t meet the stripper in the eye, but that only left him with a shirtless chest. Matt could live with that.

“Whatever you say, Boss.”

The hum of music filled the room, slow and sensual. The champion rolled his hips, languish and almost lazily to the beat. Matt had a perfect view of his chest, arching back and forward with muscles rippling and skin shining. Large hands trailed across the expanse of his chest, catching in the grooves and crevices of his abs as the sway of his hips became thrusts. It should’ve been illegal to toy so effortlessly with a person’s desires, and yet Matt knew what he signed up for, gladly accepting anything the stripper had to offer.

“You _can_ touch, you know,” the champion said abruptly, catching Matt’s eye. A playful smirk crossed his features as his hand slid _slightly_ lower than normal...

Matt risked a glance down. “Seriously?” He whispered, throat hoarse. The champion cupped the prominent bulge of his pants, risking a quick squeeze before sliding back up. Perverted thoughts swam through his head at the sight. His cock pulsed in the confines of his jeans.

The champion shrugged, skimming towards his broad shoulders. “As long as you don’t touch the important bits,” he gave a sharp buck of his hips, “then I don’t see why not.”

Matt bit the side of his cheek. Not that he was complaining, but – “You don’t think it’s a bit,” he struggled to find the right word, “...weird?”

It was one thing to stare at an attractive person, but it was another thing entirely to violate their personal space.

Before Matt could even think, the man bent over. One moment he was free, and the next he was encased in the prison of tight muscle, with bulging arms either side of his face and a slick body pressed against his own. His heart jumped out of his chest as the champion leant in, pressing his dry lips against his earlobe.

“I can feel your boner on my thigh,” the champion murmured. “So no, I don’t think it’s weird.”

_He noticed..._ Of course he noticed, it wasn’t subtle as his cock throbbed against his thigh, pushing against the denim of his jeans. How the champion managed to look so composed was beyond him.

“...Was it that obvious?”

The champion leant back, grinning from ear to ear. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. You’re not the first,” He shrugged as if to say _what can you do?_ “Quite a few clients end up asking me to fuck them. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you kind of look like you want to.”

“Would you?” Matt blurted, before immediately regretting it. Had he seriously just asked that?

The champion’s lips twitched upwards. “I might make an exception.”

That... wasn’t the answer Matt had in mind. He froze, staring at the wolfish expression on the champion’s face. Warmth flooded through his system - not the embarrassment kind at the beginning, but something darker, something primal.

Still, he held some vague sense of reality. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Shiro.”

“What?”

“My name is Shiro.”

“Oh… I’m Matt.”

“Well, Matt. On with the show?” Shiro suggested.

A gentle hand on his side lulled him to his back, giving himself to the stripper. With one hand supporting his weight, Shiro rammed his pelvis forward, snapping back and forth at an impressive pace. No longer the languish and subtle movements from before, the dance mimicked hard and rough _sex._

The champion suddenly seemed like a well-suited name, Matt thought. His body demanded respect, dominating Matt’s lithe, smaller build and oozing confidence with each role of his hips. A champion of the bedroom, unmatched by any; the king of sex who wore it like a perfume.

Matt barely noticed the other hand brush against his own until it clasped around his wrist, lifting his hand to press against the champion’s pecs. A jolt of electricity shot through his body at the touch. The skin was unsurprisingly slippery, and warmth radiated beneath his fingers like a furnace, the muscles coiled tight. He rubbed the smooth muscle beneath the pads of his fingers, flicking against the dark skin of Shiro’s nipples.

He met no resistance his palms slid lower, tracing the deep ridges of Shiro’s six-pack. One adventurous finger slid into his navel, relishing in  the stutter it caused in the performance. Maybe Matt wasn’t the only one getting bothered by the contact.

His fingers stopped above the waistband of Shiro’s pants, scratching against the shaved happy trail. Matt glanced down at the offending material on Shiro’s hips. The button strained as though it would pop at any moment, the leathery material clinging to his leg muscles like a lifeline.

Shiro stopped thrusting. He sat up, dropping a rough hand on top of Matt’s noticeably smaller one. “Well?” He asked, looking expectantly at Matt.

“...Can I?” Should he really be doing something like that?

“I _am_ wearing something beneath, you know,” said Shiro, as though it was obvious, before sighing deeply. “You don’t have to. I’m in no position to tell you what to do… well, I guess I _am_ , but that’s beside the point.”

Matt wanted to – he _really_ wanted to.

Tentatively, Matt fumbled with the button, brushing the skin of Shiro’s stomach as he flexed. The task was harder than it looked, especially since the pants were at least several sizes too small for the bulky man. Matt wasn’t about to complain - much less to the stripper he was currently undressing - but _god_ it was hard work.

With a sharp tug, the button came undone. Matt could practically feel the blood rushing to his crotch as he pulled the zipper down, skimming over _something_ beneath the fabric. Another shameful drop of pre-cum escaped his tip as the dark material peeled away.

… _Was that a thong?_

Yes, Shiro was definitely wearing a thong. It shouldn’t surprise him – he’s a stripper for crying out loud. The dark material did little to hide the impressive bulge of the package beneath it, and scrunched green bills hung like trophies from the thin strip of fabric.

The tight pants were quickly discarded on the floor. “Give me a second,” Shiro murmured, tugging the crinkled paper from his underwear.

Shiro made short work of the bills, snatching them in one hand and collecting them in the other. Matt almost missed the wince as his metal hand came into contact with skin, but said nothing.

“Sorry,” Shiro smiled nervously as he collected the last of the bills, placing them to the side. “There wasn’t any time to change, so…” he shrugged.

Matt hadn’t looked up since the reveal, fixated on the leathery material clinging to the champion’s hips. “That _can’t_ be comfortable to move in,” Matt said at last, glancing at the stripper. What the hell was he packing down there?

Shiro’s brow furrowed, the tip of his mouth pinched downwards. It probably wasn’t a question he heard every day, the more Matt thought about it. “You get used to it.”

“I would hope so.”

Shiro moved forward, almost instinctively. “I never really thought about it. The first few times were hellish, especially when people did try to put bills in themselves. But people seem to like it, so I just... powered through.”

Matt spared an appreciative look over Shiro’s body, nodding to himself. “You look good,” he concluded, “ _sexy_.”

A smile cracked onto Shiro’s face. “Nice to know my job as a stripper isn’t a complete waste of time.”

Was it just him, or had the distance between them shrunk? Matt felt the warmth of Shiro’s breath against his cheek, tickling his skin. It would only take an inch more, and then...

Matt barely registered the cracked lips against his own. They were so unlike his own: rough, dry, and entirely kissable. Muscle surrounded him, encased in a warm cocoon of flesh and metal, but his thoughts were elsewhere.  

He was being kissed... by a stripper. And he returned the kiss with quite a bit of vigour.

A tongue pressed against his lips, slipping into his mouth as they battled for dominance – something Matt easily lost. Shiro cupped the back of his neck with his metal hand, scratching his hairline comfortingly.

Matt was far more on focused the contours of Shiro’s back. His palms crawled down the small of his back. The skin wasn’t coated in oil like his stomach or arms, but there was enough to make his touch glide across the expanse of his back with ease. He followed the path all the way down to the thin strip of fabric around his waist, snapping the band against his tanned skin. His fingers sneaked beneath the waistband, and Shiro tensed body as his hand trailed down...

He had a _very_ nice ass.

Their lungs ached for air, and with strength Matt didn’t know he possessed, he pulled away from the kiss. Shiro grabbed the hem of his shirt, jerking the fabric up his body, and after briefly lifting his arms to let the shirt slid off his body, Matt returned to the firm muscles of Shiro’s ass. His cock twitched in the confines of his jeans.

And then something brushed against his thigh.

Matt’s gaze shot down faster than he thought possible, staring at the thong pressed against his thigh. It didn’t take a genius to work out what Matt had felt. If he was aroused before, it was nothing compared to now.

_...Was he hard?_ Matt shifted slightly, pressing his thigh against the bulge. Shiro was too preoccupied with sucking the side of Matt’s neck to notice the movement, despite his underwear bursting at the seams. Apparently, Matt had more of an adverse effect on the stripper than he thought.

The hand on his chest slid down, reaching for his belt. With expert hands Shiro opened the buckle, the chinking of metal like thunder. The button and zipper came down seconds later, and with a sharp tug his jeans and boxers slid down. He was exposed, completely and utterly to the stripper.

The difference in their bodies became so much more apparent, now: where Matt was delicate and smooth, Shiro had ridges and valleys of muscles. While he only took up a small space on the sofa, Shiro dominated it. They were so different, and yet Matt wouldn’t have it any other way.

A hand wrapped around his cock, all but engulfing it. Shiro’s hand was so much larger than his own, callous and strong as he rolled the foreskin back to rub the pad of his thumb against his slit.  A groan escaped from the back of his mouth with a few well-timed flicks of his wrist. Light-headedness overtook him, as though he had one too many drinks, stuck in a daze.

He almost missed the curse Shiro muttered under his breath. The hand resting beneath his neck slipped away, slithering between the two heated bodies. It rubbed the impressive bulge of Shiro’s thong, squeezing the member between his fingers. Matt wasn’t ashamed to admit his mouth watered at the sight, cock twitching as pre-cum dribbled from his slit. He watched as cool fingers slipped under the leather, briefly glimpsing a golden wrapper before it was gone from sight.

Matt couldn’t take it anymore. “Why are you – _ah!_ – still dressed?” He whined as Shiro increased the pace on his cock, rubbing the slit with his thumb. He’d have to pay Shiro back for the teasing him at some point, but not now.

A scoff came from above. “I’d hardly count a thong as being dressed,” muttered Shiro. His thong was probably as comfortable as Matt’s jeans –  if not worse.

“Then take it off –“ said Matt, tugging adamantly at the skimpy fabric. His intention was clear: _get rid of it._ With another yank, the fabric dipped enough for Matt to see the base of his cock, shaved bare. He didn’t dare go any further.

Several moments passed before Shiro spoke. “Well?” He said, sparing a glance at Matt. “What are you waiting for?”

A shiver of excitement ran up his spine, to the point where he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as they clenched in the dark leather. _Do it in one..._ Matt would die of embarrassment if he tried anything less. 

Matt jerked the thong down in one swoop, ignoring the groan of discomfort when the band caught against the tip of his cock. To say the sight took his breath away would be more accurate than Matt would like to admit. Everything out in the open, nothing between them, and all he could do was stare at the appendage dangling between Shiro’s thighs.

“That’s… not going in me,” said Matt at last, unable to break his gaze from the behemoth of a cock.

Shiro frowned, glancing down. Apparently, he didn’t understand. “Why not?”

“Because it looks like something you’d find in a porno!”

“It’s not _that_ big,” muttered Shiro, though he didn’t sound entirely sure. As if to prove Matt’s point, his cock twitched and raised another sinful inch.

“Most men would kill to have a compliment like that,” Matt added, finally tearing his eyes away. “You probably get it a lot.” The twinge of jealousy was irrational -Shiro was an attractive, well-endowed man, after all. Who _wouldn’t_ want to sleep with him?

A pause followed. “What should we do, then?” said Shiro, holding up a golden packet for Matt to see. “I only have one condom, and I don’t think it’ll fit you.”

“I’m fairly sure it wouldn’t,” Matt agreed, before relenting. “Just… be careful, okay? I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

The hand around Matt’s member slowly began pumping again. “So you’ll let me stick it in?” asked Shiro.

Matt got the feeling it was slightly more painful than that. “I’ll take a rain check. Don’t expect a blowjob or anything, though. Being stabbed _and_ suffocated in the same night isn’t very appealing, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame.”

_For you,_ Matt just wanted to survive. Not many of his partners had a cock above average, much less one worthy of porn. At the very least, he could brag about scoring a solid eleven at a strip club, no less. That’s an accomplishment Matt never saw himself winning.

As Shiro went back to pumping his cock, Matt roamed the expanse of Shiro’s chest. He started at the pecs, trailing up and down the firm mounds as his fingers flicked across the already hard nipples. Matt took the sharp inhale of breath as a good sign, and let his hand wander further, skimming down Shiro’s abs when something tapped against the back of his hand. A chill went down his spine, and a glance down confirmed his suspicions.

Shiro’s cock – large, hard and weeping.

Honestly, the sight was slightly intimidating. The impressive length and girth boasted an unforgettable night and the morning after filled with limping. Pre-cum dribbled down his cock in rivers, and even his balls were larger than average.

Matt barely thought about it before he reached for the appendage, trailing feather-light touches across the head. Another drop of Pre-cum drooled from his tip, and he pressed a nail into the slit, harder than most people would like. Another few drops of cum teased out of the length. Shiro grunted, bucking forward.

_He must like it._

A warm tongue traced the outline of his collarbone. The feeling was strangely euphoric: warm and wet against his skin. Teeth scratched the surface as Shiro nibbled enough to just barely break the surface. It would bruise tomorrow, but he would gladly pay the price.

Not wanting to be outdone, Matt kneaded the head of Shiro’s cock between his fingers. Most would feel pain with how hard Matt squeezed, but Shiro only groaned, releasing another wave of pre-cum down his fingers. A strange smugness passed through Matt at the sight of such an impressive man coming undone. He may not have the same level of experience, but at least he could cause Shiro some form of pleasure.

“Crap,” Shiro hissed, shifting out of his grasp. Matt almost complained until a warmth mouth pressed against his navel, licking a trail of saliva all the way to his cock.

The breath against his cock sent shivers up his spine. It teased the head with tickling glances, cooling the feverous tip, and Matt could practically feel Shiro’s undying amusement at the sight, especially when his lips brushed against the length of his cock.

Nothing could prepare him for when Shiro took his cock into his mouth, unlike anything he could ever imagine: molten bliss and pleasure all at once. The handjob had been good, but this... this took it to another level.

He barely noticed Shiro’s fingers poke at the rim of his ass until the metal finger entered him. Almost immediately he clenched, a sharp pain accompanying the underlining pleasure.  “A bit of warning would be nice,” muttered Matt, shooting Shiro a glare as his finger retreated. The man muttered an apology, but Matt swore he could _feel_ the grin on his face - the bastard wasn’t sorry at all!

The finger entered once more. The discomfort was bearable, something he vaguely remembered from previous endeavours but not quite. He focused on breathing _in... out... in_ , loosening the ring of muscles enough to allow the rest of his finger in. Matt silently thanked Shiro for covering his entire body in oil, or else the entry would have hurt.

A second finger prodded the ring of muscles, joining the first as they slipped in and out of Matt’s ass. Tension flared in his lower area, warm and foreign and not entirely unpleasant. His hands moved on their own, shooting out to wrap around the thick muscles of Shiro’s biceps, tensing with each twist of his long digits.

Matt wasn’t going to last much longer.

Something inside Matt roused when Shiro thrust _slightly_ differently, brushing against a spot deep within. It was like a switch flicked on inside Matt. Perhaps Matt cried out, or perhaps he didn’t. His throat burned all the same. _Your prostate,_ a voice supplied from the depths of his mind. No-one had ever brushed against it before.

With pin-point accuracy, Shiro hit the spot over and over again, not bothering to slow even when Matt cried out. He was merciless, one hand up his ass and the other pumping his cock, completely dominating Matt as he tipped over the edge.

He was about to cum, and Shiro hadn’t even entered him.

“W-Wait – “Matt groaned, but his voice failed. The fingers continued to press, the hand continued to pump, and Matt was _so close_ –

And then everything stopped. “Sorry about that,” Shiro said, sitting up as he exhaled. “I know it’s a pain when that happens.”

_An understatement,_ especially bearing in mind he was moments away from the best orgasm of his life. “It’s fine,” Matt groaned, pushing onto his elbows to get a better look at the stripper. Honestly, the fact that his voice still worked was an accomplishment in his books. “As long as you don’t waste any more time.”

Shiro snorted, reaching over to pick up the condom from its position on the sofa. “So demanding,” he muttered, tearing the foil packet with his teeth. He rolled the condom over his cock with a grunt, running a hand over the sheathed member.

On such a small sofa, shifting into the right position proved difficult. While Matt didn’t take up too much space, Shiro’s bulking frame was another matter entirely. They somehow managed to get into a comfortable enough position, with Matt on his back and Shiro kneeling between his spread legs. Blood rushed to his face as he felt something so much bigger than a finger poke at his hole.

“You ready?” Shiro asked, glancing down at Matt.

“Go for it.”

The urge to cry out when Shiro entered was unbearable, stretching him so much more than two fingers. The pain only worsened as more of Shiro slipped in. By the seventh or so inch, his entire body felt like it had been skewered, torn in half by the mast of meat. The muscles of his ass burned after being stretched so wide, but he continued to push further.

“S-stop,” Matt whimpered, feeling his eyes burn. _“It’s too much.”_

“Just a little more.” Shiro sounded… strained, to say the least. A glance up told Matt that Shiro wasn’t fairing much better, his jaw tense and brow furrowed. Steam dripped down his body in rivers, catching in the crevices of his abs.

Damn it.

His ass wouldn’t thank him in the morning as Shiro eased the last of himself in, finally pressing his hips against Matt’s own. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, listening to each other pant over the hum of the music.

“You okay?” Shiro wheezed, tracing a finger over his thigh.

“You’ve impaled me,” he deadpanned. Matt tried not to think about the irony of the situation - or the fact that he had a fucking _cock_ shoved up his ass. “I joked about it before, but you’ve literally impaled me.”

Shiro grinned sheepishly. “Sorry?” He offered.

Matt groaned. “Could you give me a few more minutes to adjust? I’m not really used to… all this.”

“Sure.”

It took a while for Matt to feel somewhat comfortable. The stabbing pain dulled to something just below an ache, no longer intense or side-splitting. He felt so much more than just full – and, in fact, the sensation grew on Matt.

“This isn’t too bad,” he admitted, though the rest of his body disagreed.

Shiro groaned, shifting inside of him. “You want me to move?”

“As long as you’re careful.” Matt resigned the fact he wouldn’t be walking tomorrow (or any day this week), but he wasn’t quite ready to be manhandled, much less by Shiro.

“Duly noted.”

A whine left Matt as Shiro slipped out of him, receding until only the tip remained, before nudging the member back into the awaiting hole. His cock reached further than Matt thought possible, splitting him in two and burning with pleasure at the same time. He slammed into Matt, thrusting his hips back and forth with impressive speed. Low grunts left his mouth each time he forced his way back into the tight entrance.

He could vaguely feel Shiro’s hands supporting his lower back, but all Matt could see was Shiro, the god in front of him. His face contorted with pleasure, the muscles of his arms bulging at the strain of carrying both their weights, his hair sticking to his face. Matt might as well be putty in his arms.

Matt opened his mouth to say something - anything - but only a whine came out. The role of Shiro’s hips never slowed, never waved, hitting its mark each time.

His orgasm came so quickly it took him by surprise. The foreplay, accompanied by the sheer bliss of Shiro fucking him, reached its precipice. He tumbled over the edge. A strangled gasp came from above as Shiro rode through his orgasm, cock pushing against his prostate. His cock twitched, shooting three spurts of cum over his chest.

_Finally_.

Matt sighed loudly, allowing the calm to roll over his body like a drug. Did Shiro say something? He didn’t know. The emptiness came as Shiro pulled out, faster than usual.

_Shiro._

Matt winced as he sat up, staring at the stripper. He almost looked in pain, breathing heavily through his nose. His hands shook inches away from his cock, which twitched and oozed pre-cum at an alarming rate. Matt might’ve came, but Shiro hadn’t.

_I must be crazy,_ before he could stop himself, Matt leant forward and took the tip of Shiro’s aching mast between his lips, sucking hard against the flesh. His jaw strained to fit the cock in his mouth, barely managing over a third before the tip poked against the back of his throat. He could deal with it for the moment, but it wouldn’t be too surprising to find his jaw aching by the end.

The tang of plastic came as an unpleasant surprise as his tongue swirled around the head of the cock. Shiro made several inaudible noises from above, his head rolling back as his legs spread wider, allowing Matt full access to the cock.  His hands slid down, massaging his balls in the palm of his hand, before applying enough pressure draw out a moan from Shiro.

Now _that_ was more like it. Matt unravelling the buff, six-foot-something stripper with a few flicks of his tongue? It made him feel beyond powerful.

Shiro barely lasted a minute before he came, roaring through his orgasm. His hips bucked forward, stomach tensed, and Matt felt his eye burn at the sudden pressure in the back of his throat. His gathered cum lay thick on his tongue, trapped within the condom. The amount he came was impressive, really, the overflowing down the sides of his cock. _Good thing he wore a condom, or else I would’ve choked._

The tension ebbed from Shiro after that. He flopped back, panting heavily as Matt shuffled into the space between him and the sofa, resting his head against the firm muscles of Shiro’s chest.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” said Shiro, after a brief pause. “I could’ve dealt with it myself.”

“I know - I wanted to.”

Matt felt Shiro hum at the comment, his chest rumbling. “I thought you said you didn’t want to choke today?”

“I changed my mind,” he muttered, loud enough for Shiro to hear. “Don’t complain about it if you want another one.”

_Another one._ Would there be a ‘another one?’ Shiro was a stripper, after all. One night stands must be pretty common. He hated the thought of never seeing Shiro again, but if it was only for one night…

Shiro’s laugh brought him out of his stupor.  “I’m not complaining,” He said lightly, wrapping his metal hand around Matt. The sensation was nice, even if the cool metal chilled his skin. “That was awesome!”

There was no use putting off the inevitable. “So… next time. Is there going to be a next time, or am I just deluding myself? I mean, I want there to be a next time, but if you _want -_ ”

Shiro cut him off. “I’m free tomorrow.”

Matt tried to keep his thoughts on tracks. Was that, _‘I’m free tomorrow to meet up,’_ or ‘ _I’m free tomorrow for us to fuck?’_ He didn’t have a clue.

“I didn’t expect you to be so open-minded. I meant to meet up, just to clarify. Not to fuck.”

Shiro cocked an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you thought I did this every night, right? Because I’m a stripper?”

He wouldn’t try to deny it. “Yeah, a little.”

Shiro shrugged. “I guess I can’t blame you,” he said, sitting up. Matt almost complained when the hand slid out from under him. “But for the record, I’ve only done this once before – with a client, that is,” he added quickly.

Shiro fumbled with the condom around his flaccid cock, easing the member out with care. He really _had_ cummed a lot, hadn’t he? With a knot tied in the end, Shiro threw it in the trash can in the far corner of the room, before picking the abandoned clothes from off the floor.

“How about coffee, then?” said Matt. He couldn’t sound more hopeful if he possibly tried.

“Definitely.”

“I hope you realise I’m going to be aching all over. I’m not gonna be able to sit down for weeks, thank you very much.”

A low rumble came from Shiro, which Matt assumed was a laugh. “Just be glad this room is only booked for me, or else anyone could’ve walked in.”

Matt froze. Now _that_ would be embarrassing. Speaking of which...

“I should probably get going. My friends are probably worried about me,” said Matt.

Shiro grunted in response, picking his tattered thong from off the ground. “Guess I should get back to work as well,” he mumbled, though he didn’t sound particularly happy.  Matt guessed it had something to do with just having sex.  

Matt once again wondered how Shiro fit his cock anywhere when he caught Shiro stuffing the member back into his thong, pulling at the sides in a vain attempt to hide his bulge. His own state of dress wasn’t much better. Cum splattered his chest, and several of his clothes had oil stains from when Shiro rubbed up against him. _A tissue would be really nice right now._

As if reading his mind, Shiro leant over and wiped the sticky fluid away with some kind of black cloth. It took a moment to realise they were his _pants_.

“That’s disgusting,” said Matt, as Shiro slid the leather pants on without a care in the world, the stain painfully evident. The action disgusted him as much as it aroused him.

“I’ve had worse,” he said, turning towards the door.

Matt didn’t bother asking what he meant – he had to get back to his friend, at the very least. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Ten o’clock outside here?”

Shiro nodded. “I guess it’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that happened. I honestly didn't see myself posting anything for ages, much less a stripper!AU with a shit tonne of smut in it. Can you guys comment below on ways to improve? It's my first time writing smut, so all help is appreciated. It's kind of based off some art by Zillabean, but not really...


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